


Spiked

by JinkyO



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Gen, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/pseuds/JinkyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese and Finch discover the unexpected danger of accepting a drink from a pretty woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spiked

“Goodnight, Harold.”

“Goodnight, Nathan.”

John drew in a breath and walked away. This was one of those times when it was best to be an employee and not a friend. In his current, drug hazed state, Harold Finch deserved that courtesy.

He'd stay the night at the library, back in the reading room, close enough should Harold need help as the unknown cocktail Tara Verlander, a.k.a. Not-Jordan Hester, used to spike Harold's drink, ran itself through the man's system. Far enough away to avoid playing the role of Nathan Ingram.

As to what exactly Harold was loopy on, John guessed run-of-the mill hallucinogens, most likely ecstasy. That still didn't quite explain Harold's high temperature, or the way Harold tried to snuggle against him when John cupped his hand over his forehead to check. Well, maybe it did, or maybe Verlander's drugs were having an interaction with Harold's regular medications. John determined that, the morning, he'd insist on Harold making a stop to one of the many under the table doctors his boss kept on retainer.

“Nathan? Nathan, are you hiding from me?”

John grimaced at the plaintive quality of Harold's voice calling from the main room. The slow, steady shuffle of Harold making his way to John's self imposed isolation. Maybe, John thought, he could sit with Harold until he went to sleep? Harold would eventually have to sleep, wouldn't he? And, seriously, in this state, Harold wouldn't remember any of this come morning.

“You _are_ hiding. Oh, look, even more books!”

“You should be sleeping, Harold.”

“Couldn't. Had to pee. Thank you for the water. Terrible birthday gift, by the way.”

“It's not your birthday,” John said as he moved over to the doorway to guide Harold inside. Gently he sat him down on the comfortable leather couch.  John didn't plan on sleeping tonight anyway.

“Then why did you come over? I thought we agreed, from now on,  _only on our birthdays._ ” Harold said quietly.

“Sshh... No more talking. Let me take off your shoes and then I want you to lay down and get some rest.”

“I don't feel good at all, Nathan.”

“Tell me what's wrong?” John dropped down to his knees in front of Harold and worked his shoes off.

“Tingly. And warm.”

“Do you want me to call Dr. Tillman?” John eased Harold down onto the couch. He brushed a hand over Harold's cheek, startled by the softness of the older man's skin. The fever was worse and John was worried.

“No.” Harold, coughed and curled himself into the soft leather. “Can I have another birthday water?”

“Sure.” John stood up to retrieve a bottle. “Harold, who's the President?”

“Now?” Harold said, his voice pitched higher. “Barack Obama. Today is Thursday. I'm fine, just queasy.”

“Just checking. Here's your water.”

Harold shook his head against the seat cushion. “No thanks, not thirsty anymore. You're not Nathan, are you?”

“No. I'm John. I'm your friend and I'll stay here with you until you feel better.”

“Thank you, John.” Harold murmured.

John tucked a sheet over the smaller man before taking up his watch in a chair across the room. At some point in the night he fell asleep.

 

“John? John?” Harold was shaking his shoulder and John's eyes flew open, his muscles tensed. “John, wake up – Something's wrong.”

Wrong, was an understatement.

Harold was... John scrubbed the heel his hand over his eyes.

“It's Friday. Barack Obama is still the president and I'm a woman. Mr. Reese, I think we should call Dr. Tillman now.”


End file.
